Together We Stand
by Frothy Owl
Summary: During a special event, Loki's family and home are torn away from him. Wounded, he finds shelter in the home of a blacksmith/wizard. Along with him and a man with a breathtaking curse, Loki must find companions to help him regain his home and free his family. Along the way, his priorities suddenly lose their importance when he learns things that were best left hidden away.
1. Prologue

**A/N:**This story is something that came up out of the blue. It's specially dedicated to a few friends from Tumblr.  
reindeergamesbitch - No real explanation is needed. She's been wonderful to me since I joined the site and since we started talking.  
you-have-a-winter-heart - A really great person, despite the fact I've only known her for about a week or two. Wicked sense of humor, too.  
awesomecrud - She came and talked to me and we've been pretty good since. She's an absolute sweetheart and I love that she can trust me enough to come to me with her problems.

This story, and the feels that might come along with it, are for them. Hope you all enjoy as well!

* * *

**Prologue**

** The resonating sound of hoof beats against wet, sodden earth grew in intensity as the remainder of Odin Allfather's army rode proudly to return to their wives and family. **Once the men were settled in their homes with their wives and children around them, they would be able to mourn those who had lost their lives against the Jotuns and their allies. The villages that had been ransacked and left barren by these gargantuan monsters would one day thaw and sprout new life, but the war had left them under ice that would instantly destroy the skin that came into contact with it.

Atop his eight-legged steed, Sleipnir, the fastest animal that ran on land, Odin bounced on his saddle and led his army back to the city gates of Asgard. The towers of the castle could be seen from any vantage point near Asgard, and the light of the town acted as a guide to anyone trying to find their way in the night. The king could almost smell the perfume his wife would be wearing, the flowers that would be braided into her hair that her ladies-in-waiting will have adorned her with. The feel of her in his arms would certainly reassure him that he would be home at last.

And his son . . . Odin had long dreamed of holding his only son to his chest once more, many months ago when he had left Asgard for the first time after a nearby ally had called for help when the Jotuns began to destroy everything in their path. That had been only days after Thor had been born, and he had only held his son for a few moments before war had called to him. He had to leave his son, barely days old a babe, and head off to war. He had kept in his mind that he would be able to die after seeing his son, the beautiful prince, although he would have regretted not seeing him grow into a king.

Odin swallowed as he glanced down to the parcel he was carrying in front of him, with many shredded blankets lining the form and a thick cloth wrapped around the tiny body. He could see it shifting around, trying to make itself comfortable with the rocking of Sleipnir's gallops. It made a face in its sleep but remained as so and didn't cry out. He sighed with relief. The others had no knowledge of the fragile package in his lap. If they had any idea, any indication of what he was carrying, they would surely let him know in any way they could that his decision would be one filled with regret.

And they were home, the cheers of their awoken city roaring out into the quiet land. Odin raised his staff high into the air to declare their victory over their enemies, and he stopped his men in the square to see them dismount and take their wives into their arms. Some men took to their husbands. He cast a blind eye towards their affectionate displays and watched with a heavy heart as some women looked out amongst the soldiers and quickly realized their lovers were not to return. The women held their tears back as children shrieked and hiccuped. Those who knew they would never see their fathers again could not hide their pain from Odin. He knew of their fate as much as they did.

"My people!" he cried, raising his staff higher to attract them so they would listen. He looked out into the crowd of reunited families and widowed women. He swallowed again before continuing, "My people! The Jotuns have retreated and their army has fallen! Here, we have it!" Odin reached into his saddle bag, brandishing a luminescent casket that leaked a chilling air. The hairs of his arms stood simply from touching its handles. "The Casket of Ancient Winters belongs to Asgard! Their power is nothing but a weak ripple in the sea. We have avenged each lost life tenfold! Your husbands and friends and brothers died not in vain."

There were cheers and tearful smiles from the crowd. Odin returned the casket to its place in his bag and steered his horse away from the crowd. His people parted for his path, allowing him to slip from the crowd and trot back to his home. The celebration would begin at the home, a private reunion of family and lovers, and people would move to the streets in the morning.

Odin led Sleipnir to his place in the stable, rubbing the coat on the steed's neck and face. He leaned his forehead against the broad face and whispered his many thanks to the great beast before gathering the parcel bag in his hands and retiring back into the castle. Frigga must have already heard the many grateful cheers of their subjects. He could imagine taking her into his arms again, and his heart beat wildly in his chest. As he walked through the doors and stormed through the hallways in search of her, his many servants greeted him with applause and words of eternal loyalty. He thanked them all and continued his search.

He stopped in front of the nursery, a soft voice singing sweet words quietly. Odin took a deep, eager breath and pushed the cracked door open to see the beautiful, light smile of his wife's face. In her arms was his child, Thor, wide awake and smiling up at her. He looked to Odin and let out a squeal of happiness and clapped his small hands. Such an innocent move made Odin's heart break happily. He rushed to his family, pulling them both to him with one arm while the leather bag balanced in the other. Thor took hold of his ghost-white beard and gave it a curious tug. Odin yelped and pried the little fingers from his hairs.

"He has never seen you before," Frigga said quietly, her smile permanently painted over her features. She seemed to glow. "You are new to him. And he's excited. All of the work I have done trying to get him to sleep is now for naught because of you." She giggled and kissed his cheek.

"Do not blame me," Odin jested. "He is a man, and men do not sleep when wars are won. They are awake and celebrate the glory their country has gained!" He kissed Thor's head and petted the thin crown of gold hair that grew from the small child's head. He then turned to Frigga, feeling the bundle begin to wake in his arms. This child slept well. The maids wouldn't have much trouble with him. "Frigga, there is something I must confess."

"What is it, love?" She pulled him towards a chair sitting by an open window, easing him to sit and rest. He stopped just short and placed the parcel on a table nearby. In her arms, Thor was becoming restless. He squirmed and clapped his hands over her shoulder, her breast, her cheeks; anything he could hit, he did. She took his hands and shook her head towards him, urging him to be calm and not violent.

"Frigga, my dear, before I show you what I have done, please understand that it was in the best interest of our people. I could not let an innocent life be taken by my men, my people." He reached inside. "I must also ask of you to be silent about anything you hear in this room. The others must not know what it is I have done. If they knew, they would think of me differently . . ."

"Dear, what's wrong?" Frigga stroked her son's head as she watched her husband dig around in the bag and pull out a small bundle of cloth. He pinched an end between two of his fingers and peeled the first layer off, revealing a small, sleeping babe. His skin was blushed pink and light and he frowned in his sleep before awakening. Crystal-blue eyes stared up at Frigga as she covered her mouth in shock. He looked at her for a few moments before an innocent smile broke out his face, and he laughed.

Frigga looked to Odin in horror. "You took someone's _child_?" she asked in a whisper, afraid anyone who walked by the door would hear them. She reached out and touched his arm. "Odin, why would you . . . Who does he belong to? Whose child is he?"

Odin looked at his wife with still emotion, not surprised by her terrified response to get the boy to his rightful parents. He had been expecting her to act in the way she did, but he was surprised that her voice was low and that she was not screeching at him so that the entire castle's staff would hear. She hadn't struck him yet, and he hoped she wouldn't. He shifted the child in his arms as the small fingers ran through the beard Thor had just recently pulled.

"He is the son of Laufey," Odin admitted quietly. Frigga held her son tightly to her, keeping him from reaching out to the small bundle in his father's arms. "He is a giant. A small runt that was hidden away from his kind. His father was probably embarrassed." Odin touched the boy's face tenderly, chuckling as the small hands grasped onto his finger and stared at his nail in fascination. "I could not leave him to die out there, Frigga."

"How will you keep his roots hidden?" Frigga leaned in close to the child, her curiosity in his behavior growing. "And what about the giants' violent tendencies? They're monsters. He could grow old and begin leaving ruin in his path. What will you do about him then? How will you suppress it?"

"Look at him now, Frigga." Odin wiggled his finger in the boy's hands, and he began laughing. Thor joined in with his own joyous sounds, and the two began laughing at each other. "I have placed a spell in his bones that will cover his frozen skin. He will grow up knowing he is of Asgard, and he will be safe." Odin stroked the boy's cheek.

"Do you know what you will call him?" Frigga asked. "If you plan on raising him as your own, you must name him."

The child looked away from Thor to Frigga with the same excited smile on his face. She couldn't help but let the edges of her lips pull up into a smile. He seemed innocent enough. He wouldn't remember his time spent in the land of ice. He would live his life without knowing what he truly was, but he would be happy and alive. Knowing that, Odin could live with the guilt of stealing him away from his kind.

"I will name him Loki," Odin said, rocking the child slowly. Frigga looked to her husband for any sign of hesitation but saw none. "He will be a great prince, and one day, he may know of his origins. We could bring peace to our two kingdoms."

Frigga gave Loki a long, tentative stare before turning away and moving towards Thor's crib. The young prince didn't take his eyes off of his new family member as his mother gently lifted him over the bars and settled him in the sheets. He stared at Loki from where he lied, fingers curling in and out from his palms. Once Frigga had him settled, she returned to Odin and held her arms out to take the child.

"I am his mother now," she explained as Odin's brow furrowed. "It's natural that a child's mother tucks him into bed and sings him to sleep. Now, give him here." She did not wait for him to hold Loki out and slipped him easily from Odin's arms. The child crooned as she walked him slowly over to the crib and set him down beside Thor.

Thor turned over and the two stared at each other curiously. Frigga found herself giggling before she could help it. Odin came to her side, looking down at their complete family. Thor reached out and touched Loki's nose, squeezing it and laughing when he sneezed.

"They'll be close," Odin murmured with a smile. "And they'll protect each other."


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**The sun had not yet risen to light the city of Asgard, but I was already awake and dressed, ready for whatever the day was to bring.** My hair, long and coal-black, was slicked down and kept out of my eyes. I stopped by a window and glanced at my translucent reflection on its surface. I could see a few torches lit as some workers in the town were already awake with me and getting themselves prepared for the morning. I shifted the shoulder guard and moved on to my destination.

I walked up to the large wooden door and knocked hard, rapping my knuckles against its surface until they hurt. I had to ensure the big lummox heard me, or else he would be in bed for days. If he missed the annual festival that was held in the city's square, he wouldn't let me hear the end of it. Suddenly, I was responsible for making sure Thor woke up on time every morning.

There was no noise on the other side of the door, meaning that Thor was ignoring me and refusing to get out of bed. Again. It would not have been the first time he had ignored me because he wanted to spend only a few more moments beneath his sheets. He had thrown a chair my way before when he refused to get up, and my revenge was to disintegrate his sheets and leave him with a few burns and less body hair. The hair covering his legs still grew out uneven in a few places.

I growled under my breath and pushed against the door to enter his chambers only to find it didn't move. I paused, trying to think of why my brother's door would not move at my touch, and pushed against it again. It still refused to budge. The door did not swing outwards, so there should be no reason as to why it would not open. I gave it yet another hard shove, this time using my shoulder as a battering ram. Something on the other side of the door squealed as it scraped across the floor. The door cracked, and I peek through.

My older brother, who had always taught me how to act like a respectable member of the royal family and to wake up when told to do so, was literally barring the door with a piece of his furniture he had picked up and placed at the entrance in order to not be disturbed. I could feel the energy waking him up this morn would take creep out of me and I was suddenly exhausted to the core. My eyes felt heavy, and after giving them a vigorous rub with the inside of my wrist, I shoved the door, leaning against it with my hands. It creaked but refused to move anymore than it already had. My shoulder threatened to dislocate itself if I attempted to throw myself against the door another time.

I groaned audibly enough to cause Thor to move beneath his blankets but he refused to open his eyes in acknowledgement. I pushed against the door, making the armoire creak as it jumped. I sighed and pushed my hair back into place after it fell over into my eyes. Thor began to snore lightly. It would be a cold day in Hell before I let him stay asleep on today, of all days.

"Thor, what on earth is wrong with you?" I called into his room as he snored. "You know as well as I do you have to be up this morning. Move this dresser, Thor, or you will be sorry! I'm sure your legs remember well what I did the last time you did not answer me."

In reply to what I said, he turned himself over in the sheets, producing a wonderful view of his back and shoulder blades, and his snoring grew in volume. I gritted my teeth together and pulled away from the door. I would be losing my hair at a very young age because of him. I would be in my late thirties (possibly early forties), and I would be completely bald. I was already close to twenty.

My boots made no noise as I crossed from his chamber entrance to the window across from his door. After I gave myself a quick glance in the window's reflection to make sure I still retained my elegant appearance, I turned back towards Thor's door. A deep breath was released from my nostrils before the spike of sudden energy washed over me. I could feel a buzzing behind my eyes as I splayed my fingers towards the door and focused my attention on the armoire. Glowing green sparks fell from my fingertips as I curled them inwards slowly.

The dresser in front of the door began to shake slightly, and I could feel its weight atop my fingers as though I had grabbed it and was attempting to move it out of the way by hand. I let out another breath, feeling my hands shake, as my magic took a firm hold of the object, and I lifted my arms above my head. The furniture gave a shaky start but slowly and surely lifted itself off of the ground and hung over the floor well over a few feet. I laughed breathlessly at my feat and took another breath. It was already beginning to drain me. He _had_ to choose the largest piece of furniture in his bedroom that he was not using to rest himself on. I will surely have a word with him.

I curled my fingers in to better concentrate the magic on the dresser and exhaled slowly as I moved the dresser out of the way of the door, taking careful steps forward as I moved it. I could feel my connection with the object beginning to weaken, and with it out of the way of my entryway, I swallowed and slowly let it down onto the floor. The sound of it contacting the ground was not exactly quiet per se, but it landed on the floor completely intact with neither a scratch nor crack in it.

I gasped as my connection with the armoire was broken, and I leaned against the wall to catch my breath. While my magic was strong and my energy long-lasting, that armoire was the largest thing I had moved in my life. I focused more specifically on healing and offensive/defensive spells to protect myself and my family. I didn't think spells to move inanimate (or animate) objects would be of any use to me; learning them was a personal obligation. How could I learn every spell in my father's library without acquiring those as well?

Sweat began to prick at my brow as I pushed hard against the door and threw it open. It slammed against the wall with a loud, sharp _blam_! I wiped the droplets away with the inside of my sleeve as I stared hard at my brother's sleeping form, feeling the sudden urge to find out how much energy it would take for me to lift his body from the bed sheets and out the nearest window make my hand itch. I put my knuckles to my mouth, held my breath, and then let it out slowly to calm myself. After making sure I would not throw my brother from his bed, I approached and touched his arm roughly, making sure to give it a good shake.

"Thor, get out of your bed, or I swear I will turn you into a cockatrice! Mother and Father will be expecting us soon . . ." I zapped his arm with a quick jolt of magic. He jumped in his bed and turned over towards me, looking up with wide amber eyes filled with light. I was not surprised to find him already awake and ready to greet the day. He looked up at me with his wide, crooked grin as I pointed a finger at him and angrily sputtered in an attempt to form a sentence.

"Brother! It is wonderful to see you this morning," he said brightly. I growled at him but was of no threat. He sat up, reached his arms around me, and pulled me against his chest. He then fell back against the bed and rolled over onto his side so that I was trapped amongst him, his tangled sheets, and his mattress. I kicked my feet and tried to escape, but his brute strength kept me in place.

I stopped fighting after my back began to hurt from the strain and my previous endeavor. Thor grinned and laughed, his loud voice booming in my ear. I glared up at him as he pressed more weight upon me. I sunk into the mattress and breathing suddenly became a laborious task.

"I will be down in a few mere moments, Loki," he said quietly. "But, for now, let us sleep beside each other as we once did. It's not very often I can get you to come so close to me."

"Of course," I replied, rolling my eyes. "Your placing your furniture before the door to barricade it spoke your love of my being near you so loudly I almost had to cover my ears lest I go deaf." He laughed. "Thor, I am not joking. Please release me. My hair is already mussed up."

Thor grinned and took his weight off me. I coughed as my lungs were once again filled with oxygen and sat up off the bed. My hair was tousled and knotted, and I smoothed it back the best I could with my hands as Thor walked to the dresser and picked it up with ease. He set it down before turning to grin at me. I covered my eyes.

"Thor, while I do implore you to dress quickly so we can meet Mother downstairs as soon as possible, I also implore you to begin wearing_ pants _to bed. Oh, the nightmares that will ensue . . ."

Thor's laugh belted out from his chest and echoed in his chambers as I kneaded my forehead and waited for him to be fully dressed before I turned around and escorted him. He did not seem to mind how he looked, but once downstairs and ready to begin the day, Mother took her time preening him until she was confident he was perfectly prepared to present himself to Father. She came in between us and took our arms, beaming up at each of us proudly.

* * *

Birds would have been singing in the afternoon air had Asgard's annual festival to say farewell to fall and welcome the winter months to come not driven them off to hide from the large crowd. The air already had a nip in it and my nose began to turn pink along with my cheeks. Thor's face was almost always blushed red so it was hard for me to tell if he was affected by the sudden temperature drop. He didn't seem to mind it. Maybe it was refreshing to have something cool down that hot head of his.

Thor and I had taken a table with Sif, a fellow female warrior, and the triplet group known as the Warriors Three. The Three were Fandral, Volstagg, and Hogun. Fandral was a very famous womanizer, and currently balanced two women on his lap, one with blonde hair and the other with chestnut brown, just a shade lighter than Sif's. Volstagg was infamous for how much food he could put away in so little time. He could out-eat Thor. The final member was Hogun, who remained silent more often than not, and I preferred him over everyone else. It wasn't easy to get him to converse, but if one could find a topic he found interest in, he would put in a few more words than usual.

Sif hissed through her teeth as Hogun took a small wet cloth from a metal tin beside him and placed it against the bleeding gash that slashed across her arm and stained her clothes. She ground her teeth together as she waited for the pain to subside before she sighed and let herself relax. Hogun pressed the rag down harder before dabbing at the leaking blood.

"I'm sorry I missed your match, Sif," I said quietly, giving her the best smile I could while she looked at me with murder still shining in her eyes. "I'm sure, had I been there, I could have determined whether or not she used magick in her match to win."

"Determining was not needed!" she bellowed, slamming a fist hard down onto the table. Drinks and plates clattered, and Hogun continued to dab at the ugly wound across her arm. "She _did_ use magick. I saw it with my own eyes. She cursed my body to be heavy and not move. That evil, _vile_ woman is going to be awarded the blacksmith's strongest, best-made sword and it will be because she vexed me."

I swallowed and nodded. "Sif, you are a great warrior, but your eyes are untrained when it comes to recognizing magick. Her hair could blow in the wind and you would swear her to be cursed." Sif's mouth opened to argue. I held my hand up for her to allow me to finish. "I am not saying that you do not know magick when you see it. However, there are spells that require just enough energy to remain invisible. A shift in the air around the caster is the only indication he or she is casting a spell."

"I know a curse when I feel one." Sif narrowed her chocolate eyes towards me, and the women in Fandral's lap began to feel uncomfortable; they exchanged worried glances, stood from Fandral's knees, and rushed off with their skirts in their hands so they would not trip. Fandral reached out to them dramatically, whimpering at the loss of physical contact, and then turned towards Sif with a hard glare.

"And so, once more, you run my company off with your garish shouting," he growled, pulling at his goatee and scanning the passersby to see if he could find replacement bedmates. "Could you please take a moment to act _not_ like a barbarian? I think it would be so much easier if you were to be a civilized woman and tried wearing a dress and _not _decapitating the nearest living thing."

"Fandral, you would do best to silence yourself . . ." She turned to him and slowly reached for her sword. Thor placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and shook his head, urging her to remain calm. She looked at him and gave in.

"Loki and I will look into it later, Sif," he promised, looking towards me for confirmation. I gave him a nod to agree and he smiled back at her. "For now, just enjoy today! Some of the best foods are made only on this day; enjoy them, and we'll see if we can't convince the blacksmith to forge a similar sword for you . . ."

"I don't care about the damn sword." She yanked her arm away from Hogun as he tightened the last loop of bandages and tucked it in to keep them from unraveling. "What I care about is the fact that she won by cheating and is going to get away with it."

"Sif . . ." I reached out to her, but she gave me a glower that warned me against getting anywhere near her. I pulled my hand away and crossed my arms tightly. She made sure I wouldn't try and touch her again before turning back to Thor. I wasn't surprised. She hadn't liked me even before she had her ass handed to her in a fight. A rarity, that was.

"I want a rematch," she growled at him as he took a sloppy, wet bite into the boar's leg in his hand. He swallowed the meat, only chewing about half of it, and shrugged his shoulders.

"You will take it up with her, then. What's done is done, Sif. I can't just call my father and expect him to arrange another match between you just because you don't think she won fairly. You can try again next year; it will do you good to train more."

Sif scoffed and ground her teeth together. Volstagg smacked his lips and she turned towards him with a smoldering frown. He didn't seem to notice her and continued eating. I rubbed my temples and looked around the crowd to see if I could find someone I recognized in order to leave the table and escape from Sif's seething rage. So far, I found no one I could speak with.

A woman slinking around the crowd caught my eye. She was silent and ignored the man trying to win her favor, her yellow-blonde hair strikingly bright against the many shades of light green she was wearing. She was pinching her bottom lip between two gloved fingers as she looked through the crowd and chewed on the top fingernail. Her eyes were gleaming with magick, and I felt a sudden rush of cold chills down my back. The aura around her was dark.

I turned away from her before she spotted me watching her and focused on a dark spot on the table. Thor was giving me a knowing glance, but I dismissed it and pretended that the dark spot was interesting. He knew when I felt bad magick. I made it too obvious, and I was aware of the expression I made, but I chose to remain silent instead of alerting the others. She could have been the woman Sif had lost her sword match to, and I wouldn't want to make a show of the woman in case Sif decided she wanted her rematch at that exact moment.

I made eye contact with my brother and subtly pointed out the woman I had spotted. He looked towards her, scrunched up his nose in obvious confusion, and went back to eating. Hogun dumped the water out over the side of the table after cleaning what he could of the rag and then placed both on the ground by his feet. He wiped his wet hands onto his trousers.

"The presentation will begin soon," Thor announced suddenly, standing from his cleaned plate. He wiped at the flecks of food stuck in his beard and grinned. "Brother, let's go back and meet up with Mother and Father. They'll want us there with them to present the winner with the sword."

We both ignored Sif's growl. I rose from the table and joined my brother's side. I spared a glance for the yellow-haired woman as I passed by her. She had spotted me and smiled, waving. I nodded my head towards her, bowing slightly to show my respect, and Thor and I headed back towards the castle's courtyard where the ceremony would take place. Others had decided to do the same, and we followed the small crowd headed in the same direction.

Beside me, Thor was uneasy. I remained silent during the trip, looking over everything around us in the hustle and bustle of the festival scene. A few elderly men had struck up a tune together, and a small group of people had formed a dancing square where they could show their appreciation of the music. Two young boys where arm-in-arm and dancing with each other, and a young girl separated them to dance with the darker-haired boy. His friend stuck his lip out in an angry pout and abandoned the dancers. I felt sorry for the poor kid.

Thor took hold of my elbow to stop me from running into an oncoming cart speeding through the crowd. I thanked him quietly. He chewed on the inside of his bottom lip and asked, "How distorted was her magick, Loki?"

"Extremely," I muttered, turning to one side as a young couple zipped past us with their fingers intertwined. There was no doubt in my mind that their parents would soon find out what those two snuck off to practice. "The air around her was almost black; whatever magick she practices, it isn't safe. I should probably keep an eye on her while she's in Asgard. There is no telling what she might attempt while she is here."

"That is a good idea. You know I will have your back if something breaks out." He clasped my shoulder hard and I could have sworn I almost felt my arm fall out of its socket. I moved my shoulder around to make sure it was still working and attached properly. Thor laughed and put an arm around my shoulders, pulling me towards him. "If a battle does ensue, Loki, please be careful."

"Thor, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Besides, I _am_ one of the strongest sorcerers in Asgard." I spotted a gluttonous man devouring the food in front of him as easily as if his stomach was an empty void. He grabbed his goblet with thick, sausage-like fingers. I smirked and held my hands out towards his wine. When he shrieked and dropped his arachnid-filled goblet onto himself and began to swat at the spiders crawling over his robes, Thor and I laughed and I earned myself a sharp jab in the ribs.

The walk back towards the courtyard was full of excitement and noise. Another band, this one traveling from town to town professionally, had struck up a very gay, jolly tune that others were dancing to. The dance they were performing was not one I was familiar with, so rather than jump into it as Thor did, I stayed back and clapped along with the others who bore the curse of two left feet.

Thor's partner was a young girl who had grabbed him when he jumped into the dancing circle and was spinning around with her pink skirts flying out at her feet. She was a small child, no older than twelve years, and had bright red hair tied tightly into a braid that trailed down her back. Her smile was wide as Thor spun her until she was dizzy and stumbling. After a few more songs, he thanked her for the dances and we were back on our way to the castle. He was still laughing and breathless from his merriment.

When we had finally arrived into the floral-traced courtyard, our mother, Frigga, rushed over to us and took our arms again. She was still smiling that same broad, heartfelt smile that made my heart melt when I saw her. She looked up at our father, his eye glowing with pride as he looked at his family. His right eye had been taken from him during a war many years ago, which came just before my birth. A golden patch lay on top of the wound to keep it sealed and protected.

"It's almost time for the rewards ceremony," Odin announced to us as we joined him on the stage. He looked around and opened his arms wide to gesture to the area we were standing in. It was entirely empty, save for the guards standing at the entrances and exits, but it would soon be filled from wall to wall with people waiting to cheer for the winners and congratulate them. Thor and I would be presenting the winners with their awards this year for the first time, and my heart was hammering in my chest with excitement.

"Are you boys ready?" Odin asked with a hearty chortle. He pulled Thor and me to his chest in a bone-crushing embrace. I groaned as every molecule of breath was suddenly forced out of me. Thor and Odin grinned at each other as I wheezed and gasped for air. "I am immensely proud of how you both have grown."

"Father, we must speak with you," I said, leaning in close to him so that my voice would not carry to the crowd already starting to pour in from the city square. "There are some people talking of a false win in Sif's match. She believes that her opponent . . ."

"Nonsense, Loki!" Odin placed a heavy hand on my shoulder, and my arm once again gave in to the point of almost dislocating from my shoulder. I rubbed it gingerly. "The match was looked over by Fandral and me. He and I both agreed that Sif was too confident in her strength and wore herself out at the beginning of the match. She lost, and she will keep her honor if she can accept that."

"But, Father, she says she might have been cursed, and curses are not to be taken lightly . . ."

"Loki, please." He took my arm in a vice-like grip and squeezed hard. I gasped as the pain suddenly shot to my arm, and Thor was immediately by my side, ready to defend me should Odin decided to throw me across the courtyard and into a tree. "We will discuss this later. For now, simply accept that Sif will not be awarded Sir Anthony's sword this year. Oh, and if you happen to see him, do ask how he managed to create a spell that allows animals to speak. I would love to have a speaking horse for Frigga's birthday. You know how much your mother loves riding horseback."

"Father, an animal that speaks sure cannot be the first thing on your mind . . ."

Another painful squeeze warned me about continuing the discussion, and I begrudgingly gave in. I rubbed at the bruise forming on my arm as Thor came up beside me. "Do not dwell on that thought too long, brother. You tried. Sif will understand. Although, I am surprised to see you taking what Sif is saying so seriously. You yourself said that there are spells in which the magick does not become visible . . ."

"Yes, I did," I admitted with a heavy sigh as we turned to face the crowd. "But as a sorcerer, I tend to take suspicions of curses very seriously. You do remember what happened when we were younger and I accidentally cast that curse on you that left you bedridden for nearly a week?"

Thor cringed as the memory came back to him, hugging himself and rubbing his arms. He remembered just as well as I did what that curse had done. I had been angry with him for something ridiculous and shot a spell at him that I had read in a book. My mistake was that I hadn't looked at what the spell would do, and Thor had begun bleeding from every orifice. While the healers had taken to him, I had been yelled at and thrashed by our father for nearly two hours before I was freed, and I had been banned from his room by the nurses. I sat outside that room for days before Frigga shooed the women away and scolded them for not allowing me to see my brother. When I was back at my brother's side, I didn't move until I was sure he had been all right. I had fed him and aided him in fighting his fever, all without magick. Thor had to motivate me to continue studying because it was something I had been good at, and he didn't want me to give up because of a childish mistake.

Thor was definitely one of the greatest brothers one could ask for, even if I was sometimes jealous to the point that I would throw fireballs at his feet to make him angry.

Loud fanfare blasted over the quiet murmur of the crowd and everyone became hysteric and began cheering loudly as the winners from each of the different categories split the crowd in a single-file line. Among them, I could see the fair-haired, green-eyed woman that I had spotted earlier in the crowd, the one I had seen with the dark aura around her. She was smirking up at the stage, and our eyes met. She licked her lips as she looked me up and down, and I suddenly felt uncomfortable. I shifted, and Thor looked over at me and chuckled.

"Are you this uncomfortable in front of crowds?" he whispered, leaning towards me. "I never remember you having trouble in front of an audience."

"It's nothing," I hissed back as the winners came up onto the stage and raised their arms in the air, cheering loudly and working the crowd up to for them to continue screaming for them. The woman didn't bother and simply stood in the line of the triumphant men. She turned her head towards me and winked. I cleared my throat and did my best to ignore her.

Thor gave me a hard clap on the back that nearly sent me reeling across the stage and into the audience before us, but I managed to keep my balance and only stumble once. He grinned and Frigga gave us both a stern glare through slit eyes. We snickered like children and looked to our feet to avoid being scolded. They could not take us anywhere for we would find some way to misbehave, even if we were both older than we acted.

Odin spread his arms and began to speak to the crowd as Thor and I gathered ourselves and stopped acting as though we were half our age. Thor held his hammer, Mjölnir, tight in his hands beside me, looking out over the crowd with his head held high and a wide smile on his face. I did my best to copy his posture but with a smaller smile. I didn't bother showing my teeth. No one would be looking my way anyways.

The crowd's volume escalated as a man wearing a dark red cloak ascended the stairs to the stage, a sword's sheath tight in his hand as he walked. His hair was a dark brown and very messy. His face and hands were dusted with black, and I guess he was this Anthony that everyone had been talking about. His hands were scarred with thin white lines, suggesting he often had accidents during his work. He bowed his head politely as he handed the sword over to my father and then stood. He glanced over at us. He and I locked eyes for a few moments before he retreated back into the crowd silently, his head high as though he were royalty himself. A black and white hound waited for him at the foot of the stairs, tail wagging as he approached and held his hand out for it to lick.

Odin held the sword out and gestured for the woman to step forward to take it. She approached him coolly and bowed her head, looking up at him with glowing eyes. My heart galloped as I realized too late what was about to happen. I rushed past Thor to stop it, but I was not quick enough to stop it. Her hands touched my father's, and all I could do was watch in horror as the curse she placed upon him crawled across his skin, leaving him as stone in its path. The sword was slipped from his hands as he was transformed into a full statue, and my mother screamed.

Thor lunged for her with Mjölnir outstretched in his hand, but she jumped away easily and grabbed his throat. The same curse she had placed on my father took over my brother. An inhuman scream ripped from my throat as the crowd at the bottom of the stage shrieked in unison and began to push and shove to get away from the sorceress. She cackled as a large, ugly troll jumped up onto the stage and looked straight for me. I glanced at my mother and ran for her, throwing up a green-tinted shield just as his axe swung down. The shield cracked beneath his strength. He wasn't human. That much I was able to deduce.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**The shield I had forced out in front of me offered little to no protection as each time I pumped it full of magick to fill the cracks the troll would strike it and send it close to the breaking point.** I groaned as he slammed the axe hard against my magick and sent me sliding back a few centimeters. My boots touched the hem of my mother's dress, and when I looked back to see how she could still be standing in one place at such an inopportune moment, the fear in her eyes was completely apparent, and hot tears streamed down her face as she took in what had happened to her family.

I turned towards my brother and my father, both stuck in the moments before they had been turned to stone, and I felt my heart rip from my chest. I had never seen this kind of spell before, and even if I had, I didn't know the spell that could reverse it. I would more than likely end up killing them rather than returning them back to normal.

I gasped and felt pain shoot up my arm as the axe slammed against my shield again with a stronger force. I looked back from my family to the fight at hand to see this giant standing before me readying himself for another swing. This was becoming too dangerous for my mother to be here. She had to get to safety somewhere before she was hurt, or even killed. I'd die before I let that happen.

I turned back around towards her, the pain in my arm throbbing with my racing heartbeat, and caught her eye. "You need to get to safety!" I yelled over the chaos, grunting as the axe came down on me unexpectedly. She turned back towards me as I addressed her. "Mother, leave! NOW!" I cried out as the shield splintered before finally shattering in front of me. I didn't hesitate. I grabbed Mother as the axe swept towards us. The blade sliced through the air just as I managed to dance out of the way.

She was frozen from fear, her bottom lip trembling. I felt my throat tighten and close up, but I didn't waver. I jumped out of the way as his axe came back down, but this time Volstagg was in the battle with me, his sword and brute strength blocking the blow. He managed to kick the axe out of the giant's hand and knock him over on his ass, but that was as far as debilitating the ogre went. He was quick to get back on his feet and get his weapon back in his hand.

I set my mother on her feet and managed to block a shot of bright green magick that whistled through the air. I looked towards the caster as she cackled loudly and knocked Fandral nearly ten feet into the wall of the courtyard. He fell and pulled himself to his knees. Blood poured from a small laceration across his right temple. He growled and slowly gathered himself at his feet.

"Loki!" Sif jumped in front of my mother and me with her shield protruding from her arm, blocking yet another spell. She turned towards me and grabbed my arm tight in her hand. She was shaking. Another fiery spell landed beside us and sent up a spray of rubble and dirt. My cape went up in flames. I unhooked it from my shoulders and cast it aside. It would hinder me in later battle if I left it on my shoulders.

"I'll take care of your mother while you assist Fandral and Volstagg!" she promised, taking to my mother's side and wrapping an arm around her waist. "I will not leave her side; I promise you that." She turned towards Thor and swallowed hard, tears pricking at her eyes. She sighed and turned back towards me. "Do you know how to reverse this? Can you change them back?"

". . . No," I admitted dryly, swallowing a sob as I realized my brother's demise. "I have never seen a spell such as this. I didn't even know it existed. If I were to try and reverse this, I might do more harm than good, Lady Sif." My chest tightened to the point that it physically hurt.

Sif gave me a harsh look before turning back to my mother. "I told you she had cursed me," she said gruffly. I looked at her with my mouth agape in surprise. She turned back towards me and realized her mistake. Without another word of her curse, she looked at my mother and said, "Come with me, Your Majesty. I'll stay with you. Please don't wander away from me."

She and my mother retreated back into the castle as I turned around to come face-to-face with the enchantress. She was smiling to herself and shifting her weight, waiting for me to remember she was there after making sure my mother was in good hands. She smiled down at me and waved teasingly. I narrowed my eyes.

"Who are you?" I demanded, heat flowing through my veins as a dark green fire heated up my fingers. "Why the hell have you attacked my home? Answer me, wretch!" The flames crackled as my hands moved, and I muttered a harsh-tongued spell that caused the fire to glow brighter before I threw it her way with as much of my strength as I dared to use. She threw up a shield and the fire ate away at it. She fanned the remainder of the flames with her hand.

"You don't know me? I'm hurt, Loki." She pouted her lip before firing her own magick my way. I hurled myself out of the way, tucking and rolling to avoid slamming my face against the ground. Once I had my balance, I turned back towards her and negated a harsh spell fired at my face. I stood and felt the fire return to my palms.

"Why would I know of someone I have never met?" I demanded, blocking another green-tinted flare sent my way. The magick was noticeably stronger than mine, and my hands began to sting from the burns they caused. I looked down to find them red with blood. I ignored the dripping, bleeding, raw flesh and flared my magick up again. "Who are you?"

"Same question over and over again." She placed her hands on her hips and sighed, rolling her green eyes before staring down at me and blowing harshly at a thin strand of hair that fell over into her eyes. "You should remember my name well, Little Prince. This will be the first and only time you hear me say it; if you forget, that's on you."

She leaped from the stage and landed a few paces behind me. I turned to face her and gasped as a sharp pain spread from my side to the depths of my bones and my skull. I felt my muscles go weak and I fell to my knees as those poisonous eyes stared down at me. She laughed loudly and held her arms out at her sides. "I am Amora the Enchantress!" she cried, and threw a green bolt of lightening into the clouds darkening overhead. "Your kingdom is mine, Little Prince!"

I groaned as I bent my head to my knees and gathered my breath. The pain came in hard waves, making my stomach churn. A rough hand grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. My face contorted with pain as a strangled cry was released from my lips, and I opened my eyes to meet hers. She was smirking down at me and dragged a gloved finger down my cheek.

"Well, I'll hate destroying this face," she whispered. "I have to say, you definitely got your mother's looks, didn't you? You certainly do not look like this because of your father."

I yelled out as I slammed a harsh fire spell into her abdomen, making her double over from the force. Her mouth opened into a shocked O as she flew away from me, ripping a small amount of hair out from my head in the process. She slammed against the wall of the courtyard and stilled for a few moments. I felt my hope drop as she struggled to sit up. Her clothes had been singed off from where the spell had hit her and smoke lifted from the burned area. Blood stained what was left of her clothing as she glared at me.

On my knees, gasping desperately for breath, I reached over and touched my wounded side, feeling what damage had been done as I could not see it. I pulled my hand away and loathed seeing it covered in dark crimson. That meant that the wound I had been given was more fatal than I thought. Cursing, I struggled to my feet and held a hand tight over my wound. Healing magick, healing magick . . . I couldn't remember any healing spells.

I stumbled back and swallowed, trying to dig through my brain to remember even the simplest one. The adrenaline and panic in my mind were clouding my thoughts, throwing away any sense of rationality I would have otherwise had in such a situation. I took a deep breath as I pressed my hand hard against my side, ignoring the wave of pain that caused my stomach to churn. The urge to vomit was fought against as my injured side was met with the side of a weapon. I was sent flying before landing on my back.

The cry that escaped my lips was harsh, and I sat up against the pain and swirling stars in my eyes. I managed to make out the blurred shapes of my attacker, Amora, and the axe-wielding troll that stood at her side, towering above her and me. Gods, if he wasn't at least part Jotun . . .

"Kill him, Skurge," she ordered flatly. "I don't care about messing up that pretty face of his anymore. Do have fun with him, if you wish. He shouldn't mind it too much." She flipped her hair behind her shoulder and turned her back towards me. Skurge made a grunting noise that must have shown his pleasure to take me out. I blinked the stars away from my eyes the best I could.

The noise of the axe coming overhead was audible, and I felt the fight in me suddenly well up in my chest. I concentrated as much magick as I could muster into my hand and shot a final spell from my palms, watching with blurred delight as the power of it sent him flying back, the axe falling from his fingers. I groaned and fell over, leaning against my hand as I panted and fought off the exhaustion. It crept over me and made the pain my body suffered even worse.

A loud _blam_ made the ground shake beneath me, and I looked up to find Skurge flat on his back once again, kicking his legs up like a turtle pushed over onto his shell. He groaned as a shot of bright blue energy shot against his chest, pushing him further into the ground. Amora gasped and raised her arm to perform a spell. A black and white blur appeared by her side, and a pair of razor-lined jaws clamped down on her fingers. She cried out and yanked her hand back. She struck out, but her attacker was already out of the way.

A flash of crimson was the last thing I saw before darkness overtook my vision, and I blacked out.

* * *

I could smell many different fragrances and feel the warmth of woolen quilts as I slowly regained consciousness and my senses. Everything was on fire. Simply the task of existing was sending my body into a fit of knots and stings. I felt the back of my eyes throb as I opened them, blinking against the small amount of light that I was given. I took a deep breath and gasped as the inhalation made my chest and side hurt.

I heard a steady rhythm of crackling and felt a warmth at the side of my face. I looked through blurry eyes to my side. I didn't bother moving anything but my head. If I tried I would probably faint from the strain.

I blinked away the stars and managed to make out the clear orange glow of the fire from a pit in the middle of the room I was currently held in. The floor was made of wood, from what I could see. Come to think of it, my entire surroundings were unfamiliar. I fought against the waves of nausea to raise myself into a sitting position. The bed I was lying on was pressed against the wall, so I used it as a support for myself. I made myself comfortable before taking in the rest of the area around me.

Across from the bed was a large worktable with many flasks and bubbling liquids emitting a foul-smelling fragrance and bowls filled with many different plants and minerals. Hanging over the hearth in the middle of the room was a large cauldron with a green, soupy substance inside of it. It bubbled and gurgled, and I made a face. To my right was a door that led outside and to my left was a ladder that led to a loft in the back of the house, possibly to a storage space or a spare bedroom. The side of the room beneath the loft's floor was filled with shelves and shelves of weapons and tools and flasks of different colors and shapes. I swallowed and suddenly realized how dry my throat was.

I heard a whine from beside the bed and I looked around, not daring to lean over and risk vomiting whatever remained in my stomach from the festival . . . The festival! My family! Where the hell was I? I needed to get out of here, get back home and check up on Thor and Mother and see if everyone was all right. I threw the blankets off of me and felt my stomach clench up. I doubled over and heaved until my throat was sore. I swallowed again and realized how desperate of a situation I was in.

"Oh, my, that didn't sound pleasant at all. At least there was nothing in your stomach for you empty onto my master's bed," a voice said carefully, and I looked up from my crouched position to come nose-to-nose with that of a wolf. Its eyes were as blue as a rich waterfall, and it blinked as we stared into each other's eyes. It sighed. A wolf _sighed_. I waited for it to attack and rip my face from its bones.

"You must be dying for a drink of water," it said, and my eyes felt as though they would pop out of my head and roll across the floor. I was merely centimeters from a dangerous canine and here it was _offering me_ _water_. _Verbally_. I was sure that I had been drugged or sent into an illusion by that enchantress. Gods, what was her name? Amora? The wolf huffed and stood. "If you'll wait for a moment, I'll go and fetch you some. There's a nice, small lake just outside that's perfect for bathing and drinking."

The wolf's tail wagged back and forth as it trotted over to a small bucket lying beside the door. Inside of it was a ladle. The wolf took the rope hanging over the side in his mouth and ducked out through a small flap that had been sealed over a small hole in the door. I guessed it had been put there so that the animal would be able to leave and come back as he wished.

I blinked as I pressed my hands against the mattress beneath me to keep from falling over onto my face. I swallowed bile building at the back of my throat and stared at the door, waiting impatiently for the return of the wolf. From what I could gather, the owner of this home was a man with extendable knowledge of magick and potions, the latter I was severely lacking in. If this man could create a spell to allow animals to talk, there was no telling what he was capable of.

I swallowed dryly again and shifted my position slowly, closing my eyes and fighting the nausea as I leaned back against the wall. My breath was deep and labored. I opened my eyes and looked down at my torso. My wound had been dressed and tightly wrapped. My fingers brushed up against it and I could feel the sting of touching it.

The small flap rose up and the talking wolf poked its head back into the room, the bucket in its jaws sloshing water all over the floor as it rocked. He dropped the bucket by the floor and I shamelessly dove for it, using the ladle to scoop water into my mouth. It felt like silk running down my parched throat, and I sighed, scooping four or five more mouthfuls down my throat before splashing it over my face and sighing. Never has water felt so nice to me before.

"You seem to have been thirsty. It's a good thing you're alive. My master will be pleased." The wolf's tail began to wag and he lied down by the fire, resting his broad face on his front paws. He looked up at me while I studied him. After a few moments, he seemed to become uncomfortable and sat up. "Is something wrong? Are you hungry? I can't cook anything, sir, but if you don't mind a fine, raw rabbit I could easily fetch you one."

His tail was wagging again, excited for the prospect of a hunt. I slowly shook my head, still trying to grasp that I was having a conversation with a wolf. He dropped his head back down onto his paws with another sigh. "Well, if you don't want anything, will you please stop staring? It's a tad frightening."

"I apologize," I said dazedly, and then scrunched up my face as I realized I had just apologized to an animal. I swallowed another mouthful of water before asking, "Your master . . . He's the one who created the spell that allows you to speak?"

The wolf's ears perked up at my question and he almost seemed to become excited about the question. The thumping of his tail told me he was. "Yes, he was the one who bewitched me. It was a test to see if the spell would work, which it obviously did. I have been the only successful result, however. Others have not gained the ability."

"A spell that allows animals to talk? I wonder if I could find it in the castle's library . . ." At the mention of my home, memories washed over me. The ceremony-gone-wrong, the fate my brother and father had suffered, if my mother was all right . . . "Tell me, do you know what happened to the kingdom of Asgard? Have you heard any news?"

The tail-wagging ceased and his ears dropped. A small, high-pitched whimper came from his throat, and he looked down at his paws. I felt my heart gather up in my throat. I knew the answer before the beast had said a word.

"My master and I were there when Amora attacked your home," the wolf admitted. "We fought alongside you and the others, but you didn't seem to notice our presence. She attacked just as we were about to leave." He stood and approached the bed, laying his chin down on the mattress in front of me. "I'm sorry to say that your kingdom fell. She was too powerful for you or my master. She had weakened you and he was using his magick to protect you. She and her lackey, Skurge, overthrew your family. My master brought you here so he and his colleague could heal you."

My hand instinctively went to my bandaged injury. Every inch of my body was sore, and I could make out dark purple bruises in the firelight. There was no telling what my face looked like. The bottom of the bucket was too dark for me to catch my reflection in. I felt tears gather in my eyes and blinked them away, swallowing a sob I wanted to let loose. My home was gone. My family was gone. I had lost everything, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.

I took a deep breath and cleared my throat. "You said there was a . . . a lake around here somewhere, correct?" He lifted his head from the mattress and gave me a small nod. I swallowed and moved my legs out from under me. The floor was warm from the fire's head. "I would like to wash up, if you don't mind. I'm sure I must smell."

"Like the dead." The wolf stopped and slipped his fluffy tail betwixt his back legs. "My sincerest apologies, sir. But, yes, you do smell offensive." He panted as he passed the fire and walked over to the door. I managed to stand, albeit it was very hard with the pain making my muscles weak.

"How long have I been unconscious?" I asked as I carefully waddled towards the door. The wolf stopped and sniffed the air from beneath his flap.

"Three days." He pulled his head back in and looked up at the handle. "You'll have to open the door, if you can manage it. No thumbs." He raised a paw to his chest.

"I'm bruised, not broken." I fought back a grimace as I straightened up and took my normal, heavy-footed strides. My body felt as though I had thrown myself from a cliff and lived to tell the tale. Considering I hadn't been awake for the last few days, there was a definite possibility that had happened. I was grateful I could get up and walk at all after what I had been through.

I grasped the handle of the door and pulled it inwards, glad to see that I had enough strength to perform a task as simple as opening a door. I pulled it open as my companion trotted into the dark air in front of me. I made sure the door was shut firmly before following the wolf into the maze of trees and brush surrounding the cottage. I then realized, due to the cold air touching my bare skin, that my armor and tunic had been stripped off of me and I was bare from the waist up. I wore my trousers and knickers, but my shoes were also gone.

In the lilaceous light of dusk, I could make out the damage that had been done above the belt. The portions of my torso that were not covered by bandages were dark, ugly purple and yellow that showed tell-tale signs of the abuse I had suffered three days prior. My entire right arm was crisscrossed with many lacerations of different size and depth. Bruises accompanied them, dotting out in different sizes across my arm.

I looked to my left arm, seeing a similar pattern. What had been done to me while I was in the recesses of my mind? Had I slipped in and out of consciousness while I was being sliced like a boar or poultry? What had been done to me? I suddenly felt a wave of nausea take over me, and I rushed away from the wolf's side, emptying what I thought had not been in my stomach onto the roots of a nearby tree. After retching, I breathed heavily and coughed, spitting out as much of the sour taste from my mouth as I could.

When I had finally regained control of my bodily functions, the canine led me to a crisp, clear lake that seemed to stretch on for miles. I gasped in awe and grinned at the scene before me. It was gorgeous. The lake was clear enough that one could see all the way to the bottom, even see the fish swimming around in the water. It looked shallow, but I didn't want to take any chances and fall into a deep abyss.

"The water here is cool and should help your wounds," he said, stopping just short of the shore of the lake. He sat down and looked over at it. "Would you prefer privacy while you clean your wounds or would you prefer assistance?"

"Don't ask him stupid questions, Jarvis. He's getting help whether or not his 'royal highness' wants it." I started as a voice snarled from behind me, and I turned. The same man who had approached my father with the sword that cost him his life stood among the trees. He was also wearing a cloak that was the same crimson color I had seen just before I blacked out. His face, however, was cleaner and there were a few new scratches across his skin. They must have been from the battle with Amora.

Behind him was a smaller, meeker man who kept his lips tightly together. He simply nodded at me and shifted the weight of the dead birds in his hands. The man in the red cloak walked forward and crossed his arms, looking me up and down. He was considerably shorter than I, but he didn't seem to care about the severe height difference between us. The air around him held just as much confidence as it did for my brother when he was simply relaxing and acting childish.

Brown eyes studied me carefully, narrowing, before he stuck a dirty, bloody hand towards me. I looked down, unsure if I wanted to touch him at all. He frowned at me and pulled his hand back. "Don't want to touch someone below your class, eh, Princey?" he joked stiffly. "Well, better get over that. You've just fallen from the top to rock bottom. Your title is gone, and it belongs to Amora now."

He stuck out his hand again, raising an eyebrow towards me in question to see if I would take it. I didn't hesitate and grabbed his wrist. He took hold of mine in a gentle grip. He was wary of hurting me. How considerate.

"Hey, Bruce, take those chickens up to the cottage, pluck their feathers, and I'll be back to prepare them for dinner. I'm going to help Princey here to clean his wounds and dress them again. Oh! Jarvis, go fetch a fresh roll of bandages for me." I blinked, surprised to see him barking orders as if he were the commander of an army. Bruce, the man wearing a dark violet cloak, nodded.

"Oh, and Anthony, don't forget that we have that hunting trip to collect food before the animals disappear for the winter," he said, holding up the dead birds in reference to the hunting trip. Anthony, the man in red, nodded and turned away. Bruce quickly made his way back to the cottage.

"Your name is Anthony?" I asked.

"Is anyone else around to answer to that name?" He approached me and gestured towards the ground. "Sit. It makes things easier for me if I don't have to stand up." I frowned at the order but did as I was told. He nodded and pulled a small dark blue cloth from his pocket and bent down by the clear surface of the lake. He dunked the cloth into the water and stood.

"Here, remove your bandages and we'll clean your wound." I turned down towards the cloth wrapped around me and struggled with finding where it had been tied. Anthony's patience was thin and he refused to allow me to search for the end of the bandages to unravel them. He brandished a small hunting knife, still red from his and Bruce's earlier excursion, and grabbed the small tendrils wrapped around my shoulder. He slid the blade beneath them and sliced through with precision.

Anthony began to rip the bandages away from my abdomen but made sure his touch was gentler when he reached my wounded area. The blood had dried between my skin and my dressing so that they were almost fused together. He carefully pulled it away, watching as I occasionally winced from the bit of pain that came. Anthony piled the dirty, used bandages off to the side, and I glanced down to see what damage had been done to me.

For a few moments, I wished that I had not looked down to see what my injury looked like. The skin was charred and black in a small ring the side of a young woman's fist. The area inside of the black ring was a disgusting mess of red and pink. Blood had started pouring from the wound already in small rivers and the dried blood created dark red patches around the inside. I felt my nausea return to me. My eyes quickly diverted to the lake before I lost whatever might have been left in my stomach.

Beside me, Anthony was chuckling as he pressed the cool rag against my wound. I hissed as the wound stung, but it lessened as he began to dab at it, and I soon relaxed. Anthony kept a steadying hand on my shoulder and lowered his head to inspect the wound carefully. His grip on my shoulder suddenly tightened, and before I could ask why he decided to dig his fingers into my already-bruised arm, a flash of pain turned the backs of my eyes white. I yelled and clutched my side. Glaring daggers suddenly became a possibility.

"I was wondering where this had gone." He held out a small blade that had been snapped off from its hilt. I placed a hand over my wound, feeling warm blood seep out between my fingers. Anthony's small smile instantly changed into a frown. "Oh, that doesn't look good."

"Thank you for your deduction," I growled.

My eyes closed and I took a deep breath to concentrate and see how much magick I would be able to use in the state I was still in. I could feel the hot trail of it running through my veins, making my heart race in my chest. The heat centered itself into my palm, and I quietly chanted a spell as the heat spread from my palm to the skin that had been close to destroyed. My head became light, and I released the spell, opening my eyes to catch myself on the ground. A strong pair of hands grabbed my shoulders.

I swallowed and panted from the exertion using my magick had caused and I opened my eyes to see the grass in front of me. I swallowed, spit sour saliva from my mouth, and allowed myself to be pulled back up into a sitting position as colors waved in and out of my vision. When my head had finally cleared and I could see well, I turned back towards Anthony to find him giving me a look that was both amazed and amused.

"That was stupid," he said as he pulled my arm up to look at my wound. "You wasted all that magick just to stop the bleeding. Well, I guess I have to commend you for being able to accomplish even _that_ much. Someone else in your state probably would have fainted just trying to do what you did." He dabbed again at the wound before setting it aside.

Soft feet padded against the grass and Jarvis appeared, bandages softly clamped between his teeth. He dropped them obediently into Anthony's hand and he began to unroll them. He placed one end onto my stomach and I held it in place as he began to wrap it around me. I let go of it when he wrapped it four times and continued to do so until my side was throbbing from the exceeded pressure on the nasty scorch mark.

As he was wrapping the bandages, I noticed a bright cerulean light poking out of Anthony's tunic. I ducked my head and craned my neck in failed attempts to see if I could make out what was making the light; Anthony tucked in the bandages and smothered it. I looked up to see him giving me a sharp look, almost glaring at me.

"I'd normally speak respectfully to royalty – well, respectfully enough that I wouldn't be beheaded – but if you _ever_ try to look and see what's inside this tunic, I will not hesitate to drown you in that lake." He glared as he stood, and I wasn't sure if I should have glared or looked at him in surprise as he stormed off. I blinked for a few moments before turning back towards him and watched him disappear into the distance amongst the foliage and sparse trees.

Beside me, Jarvis growled. He didn't sound angry, but I wasn't sure how he felt. I turned back towards him as he stood. "I wish Master Anthony would have allowed you to bathe before dressing your wound. You might have to have your bandages replaced."

I looked over at the canine and laughed, scratching him behind his ears. He lowered his head and closed his eyes, leaning in to my touch. "I can let them dry," I replied with a small smile. "However, I don't feel comfortable washing myself in the same place a school of fish swims."

"Do whatever it is you wish, sir," Jarvis said, ducking out from beneath my head. "But I must warn you: Mast Anthony does not appreciate body odor very much. If you smell of rotting flesh, he will make you sleep outside."

I made sure my bath was quick.


End file.
